Not long after I (and many others) got to the boat in late '79-early '80, boredom was really setting in. The boat was effectively gutted at the time, and there were quals to do, however imaginary they were. For a long time we were in 4 section duty, with basically nothing to do.

There were the usual spades, hearts, pinochle, etc. But these also became mundane. So people began looking for innovative ways to pass the time. One of the more memorable guys for this was Mark Okopny, a then-longtimer who, I think, brought the boat into the yard. Mark got on a kick of blowguns. He would work tirelessly at perfecting the perfect blowdart- geometry, weight, feather configuration. Everything. But each model and modification had to be field tested after "barge trials", so he would climb the big-ass pier cranes and attempt to kill pigeons. Don't know if he ever really killed any, or what he would have done with it if he had, or just how many darts he launched. I just remember him fearlessly scaling the cranes at night like spiderman just to check out his darts.

Halloween in 1981 meant the oncoming section was in costume for the turnover brief. Mr. Lowrey got to lead a bum (Gallagher), a monk (Rastberger) and Paul Stanley of KISS (me) in the review of the standing and night orders. He had to stop when I pulled out my lollipop!

A submarine is the starship of today. That said, a lotta people think they're propelled by nuclear power. Nope. It's sweat.

"Hap" McDaniels is stuck on deck watching some damned thing in the summer of '81, so I bring him a pitcher of bug juice. It's hot, and there's no wind, something he brings up.
I say, "Hap, why don't you whistle up a wind?"
He says he doesn't know what I mean.
"Come on, Hap," I explain. "The only time anybody but the Bosun can whistle is when the ship's becalmed. Like this." And I whistled the first few notes of Heart's song, Mistral Wind.
And a breeze sprang up. Hap stared at me.

I cheated. I saw the breeze coming in from the river!

A submarine is the starship of today. That said, a lotta people think they're propelled by nuclear power. Nope. It's sweat.

One fine day, I'm talking to Russ Brentnell in ERUL, and he says he's locked the key in his truck. He had a little D-50 Dodge ("Dodge Trucks Are Ram Tough!") parked just up the street, which he could do because it was a weekend and Carl Vinson hadn't really manned up yet. I have some time between jobs on board, so I walk up the street and discover the key from my GS1100E Suzuki fits his door nicely. Click, open, snatch keys. "Here ya go, Russ!"

I was surprised we didn't get more stuff stolen. In the parking lot, people were losing car stereos until somebody installed one with fishooks attached to the back; he found blood in his car, but those thefts stopped for awhile. Then somebody went down the line of motorcycle parking and cut up seats, but only those over 1000cc. Since I had put 750 badges on mine, it was skipped.

A submarine is the starship of today. That said, a lotta people think they're propelled by nuclear power. Nope. It's sweat.